Tidesong
by Lord Xavius
Summary: Caelwen, a Sentinel of the night elves, is captured by a tribe of naga and thrown into an arena where she is forced to fight to stay alive. After enduring a draw with a naga lord, the being takes an interest in her prowess and attempts to fight her again. As they get to know one another before their final duel commences, strange, forbidden emotions begin to blossom between the two.
1. Chapter 1: Fight For Your Life

" _Wake up._ "

Caelwen, a night elf and Sentinel to her kind, barely heard a voice through the murky darkness she was currently lost in. She wandered about it, vainly hoping to find something, possibly the sound that graced her long, pointed ears, yet encountered nothing. In this twisted dream of nothingness, many of her memories felt distorted and forgotten, but she knew that once she finally awoke that she wouldn't like what she had to come back to.

"Wake up, elf!" the voice spoke again, this time louder, telling her clearly that it was male in origin. Her glowing eyes snapping open in response, the night elf finally picked her head up from the damp, cold and clammy stone ground with a sore groan. Sitting up, she wiped a hand over her face sluggishly, passing it over the line-esque tattoos that were marked over her eyes.

As full consciousness returned to her, Caelwen quickly remembered what had become of her. Her fellow Sentinels and herself engaged a raiding party of naga myrmidons that were attempting to encroach upon the edge of the settlement of Lor'danel, in northern Darkshore. The party of the sea-dwelling creatures proved larger than what was anticipated, and she herself had been singled out by nearly a dozen of the burly serpents. Despite slaying many of them with her moonglaive and bow, the last thing she could recollect before her capture was a sharp pain hitting the base of her skull, and then nothing.

If she was correct, that was a week ago. For whatever reason that was their own, she had been kept by the foul creatures as their lone prisoner, and before they moved her to a visibly different location, they would knock her out again using a similar method as before. Awakening in what appeared to be a dark and dank cavern, behind coral-grown bars, was the third time now that this had happened. Deciding to look toward where that voice had spoken, Caelwen's vision adjusted accordingly.

It was a human. He had a dirty and unkempt silver beard and hair, tanned skin, and a set of dull blue eyes. Over his body was a set of armor the elf faintly recognized, through all the muddy filth it was caked in, as being what the knights of Stormwind were acquainted with wearing; save the several parts of it that were missing, most notably the left pauldron.

"You got captured too, I presume?" he asked her in an affable tone.

"How did you guess?" she replied sourly, not being very fond of humans in general. Deciding to look over her own form, Caelwen could see that the naga had at least left her armor intact still. Getting to her legs, she brushed her hands through her long, fair, teal hair and let out a sigh. "How and when did I get here?"

"Those snakes dumped you in here about a half hour ago," he answered. "I thought you were dead until I noticed you were still breathing. By the way, we're not the only ones here. The orc over there is a good example of what I mean."

Spinning her head around, the elf looked to where he motioned to. Sitting in a ball in the corner of the prison, as she had been told, was an orc. He was a rather scrawny fellow, unusually thin for most of his brutish kind, with short, yellow tusks pointing upward and out from his bottom jaw. Despite being bald, there was a small bit of black hair he had tied into a long knot on the top of his head.

"Well, looks like we're all in this together, aren't we?" Caelwen joylessly groaned to him with a sarcastic shrug. The orc grunted something back in orcish, and while neither Caelwen or the human understood what he said, he sounded blatantly unhappy.

"Why did you decide to awaken me?" the night elf inquired upon slowly returning her attention to the man.

"Because I think we're all about to get moved... _somewhere_ ," he said in a hushed voice, coughing into his fist. "I know some Darnassian, and what those naga over there said to each other a few minutes ago vaguely resembled a little bit of it. I wasn't able to discern much, but what I did make out convinced me of that." Caelwen and the human looked through the hole-like bars of their durable coral prison, and soon saw the only two naga within their line of sight. They were both males with a greenish tint to the scales covering their bodies, and long, sharpened scimitars clutched tightly in their hands.

One would ocasionally sneak a look in her direction, and then hiss something into the other's webbed, finned ear. Through her elf ears, Caelwen detected them saying phrases in their twisted Nazja language; a thick dialect of her native Darnassian. She could not tell what exactly it was that their simple minds were planning, and even so, it was a scant few minutes later that the pair slithered their brawny, scaly shapes over to the prison and cast scornful leers at the three, before circling to the front.

One pulled the front of the cell, a door made of carved whalebone, and opened it. With the door-opener standing guard, the other slunk in and pointed the curved front of his weapon at the prisoners, jerking the tip to where he had entered, motioning for them to exit.

"Time to go, I'd reckon," the man said as he walked past the orc and Caelwen, a prod from a scimitar pushing him out all the way. Rolling her eyes, Caelwen walked out before she had to be jabbed by the sword as well. The orc, however, stubbornly refused the order despite clearly getting what it meant, but was eventually goaded out of the cell when the scaly aberration gripped him by the ragged, woven shirt he wore and hoisted him forward. From there the naga made their charges begin forward, leaving the prison area behind, and entering a tunnel as black as pitch.

The escort passed through the dark tunnel until a light at the far end came into view. Exiting it after a few minute's worth of walking at a snail's pace, the three prisoners saw that they had entered an enormous, circular arena of sorts, directly below the roof of the torchlit cave. Naga, a great many of them, lined the tiered edges of the arena, each one unleashing echoing cheers and savage, booming roars once the sight of the three competitors came into view and the previously-unseen portcullis was lowered to the ground over the tunnel behind them, preventing any form of escape.

Caelwen knew the moment she had the chance to examine the place that it was a gladiatorial pit, and it didn't take her much longer to realize what the other two and herself were here for. Looking at the hundreds of the naga staring down at her with a curled lip, her sights eventually landed on a single one who sat in a lavish booth, elevated over the others in a prominent and authoritative display. It was a female, obviously seen by the less bestial features they possessed over the males.

Her dark green form was tall and slender, while a breastplate of glittering bronze adorned her chest, and jewel-embedded bracelets of a similar texture rested around the beginnings of all four of her arms. Lining her body, connecting at the crown of her head and stopping below the base of her 'hip', were three trails of long dorsal spines that were linked together by webbed, bright yellow fins, making her appearance that much more fishlike, yet also somewhat regal. Her two eyes, both shimmering gold like a pair of radiant gemstones and half-closed, peered down at the three prisoners with malevolently thin black pupils as her dark, blue-purple lips curled into a wicked smile.

Rising from her seat, her four arms rose with her, and in one of them, gripped tightly, was an impressive staff. "I hope you three are willing to listen, for I have one decree you must abide in this arena: You must fight if you wish to live," the being spoke commandingly in the common language with her Nazja accent rolling off of the base of her tongue. Looking away from them, to the naga currently standing in the fighting pit, she nodded her head. "Bring our fighters their weapons."

A male naga bearing a rolled-up bundle of cloth in his arms slithered up to the three. Letting out a rumbling growl from behind his closed mouth, he dropped the bundle to the ground and rolled it open with the flick of his thick, three-fingered wrist, revealing an assortment of tools on display before departing from them.

The weapons presented looked to be in pitiful condition, to Caelwen's ire. Quickly acting, before the other contestants could snatch up the good ones, the night elf picked up a shortsword with a chipped tip, a plain-looking bow, and a small satchel of arrows. Hoisting the satchel over her shoulder and hooking the shortsword to her side, she looked to the other two to see what they had gained.

The orc had grabbed a large, worn battle axe that still had a deadly texture to it. The man had picked up a broadsword of decent length and craft, but had rotted leather lining its hilt and grip. As they readied themselves for what was to come next, the grating sounds of gates opening went out from a distance away, and Caelwen looked to the end of the arena opposite to them. Two doorways, not unlike the one they exited from but smaller, were opening up. From them, two separate groups of what looked to be murlocs and gilgoblins began to dash out.

The murlocs were small creatures with the unfortunate features of both fish and frog, and each one had a slimy hide of various colors. The gilgoblins - a squat, mutant, water-faring subspecies of normal goblins - took a look at their new surroundings with crooked grins of their long-nosed faces. The orc charged toward the gilgoblins with a warcry that left Caelwen's ears ringing, and the human, sword in his hands, headed for the murlocs just as both the bands of short beings took notice of them and began to run over to intercept them.

Caelwen just stood where she was. As her gaze fell across the arena, she watched as the orc was quickly mobbed by the gilgoblins. The larger, greenskinned creature swung his axe at them left and right, ending the life of one of the mutant creatures with every cleave he made, but his unstoppable ferocity did not last. After one of the squat creatures sunk its small, but exceptionally sharp teeth into the orc's ankle, he topple to the floor on his back with a cry. The spectating crowd of naga let out booming roars of entertainment when the same gilgoblin, the last still breathing, just barely finished the job with another, fatal bite to the orc's throat as he tried to scramble for his fallen axe.

Driven to a frenzy by the taste of blood in its mouth and the rush of the battle, the gilgoblin spun about and caught sight of the night elf a short ways away. As he began to run at her, she in turn cocked an arrow into her bow and took aim before firing it.

With uncanny accuracy, despite being unfamiliar with this average weapon when compared to the bow she normally used in battle, the arrow pierced the creature's throat, quickly silencing it under a reverberation of choked gurgling. As it toppled to the ground in a heap, it made a few, wretched twitching movements before falling still. Hearing another noise just after finishing the goblinoid, Caelwen saw the shapes of a pair of murlocs rapidly approaching. The two had split off from the small horde that had been attacking the human, who in the meantime was quickly mowing them down by himself with just his sword. Having seen him make short work of their brethren must have caused them to rethink their primitive tactics, and so decided to assault her instead.

The first murloc to reach her lunged forth with the old butcher knife it brandished and a traditional, gibbering murloc cry. Sidestepping it at a speed faster than the squat creature could comprehend, she dropped her bow, tugged her shortsword out, lifted it over her head as the fish-like being landed upon the ground, and slashed it downward. The murloc was unable to even let out a grunt of pain as the dull-edged blade pierced through the skin lining the nape of its neck. Sinking deep, it nearly decapitated the thing, but stopped dead in its path just before it could. Yanking it out of the now-limp murloc, Caelwen examined the blood-stained blade with a surprised glint in her eyes.

It was certainly no moonglaive, but it had its uses. Turning behind her, Caelwen spotted the second murloc coming upon her. The creature jumped with a growl, its claws outstretched and ready to tear at her purple flesh. Caelwen simply, and quickly raised the sword from her waist in response, and the unwitting creature impaled itself upon the chipped tip with a squelch of metal-on-flesh. Once she was sure it was dead, she let it slide and fall from her blade to the ground.

The naga were fairly amused by her kills, and continued their incessant shouting. The mistress herself had a smug expression about her face, and her glowing eyes cast a venomous, but serene stare at the two remaining competitors; Caelwen in particular. It was no small secret that night elves and naga had a profound hatred of one another stemming from their history dating back to the Great Sundering many millennia before, the conclusion of which resulted in the latters' creation.

With a small movement of their leader's hand, the sound of a conch shell horn trumpeted through the stale air, and one of the two gates began to rise up again. Inside of the tunnel it lead to, swiftly emerging, was a tall, shadowy figure.

The being to exit the tunnel, as revealed by the torchlight, was a naga. A larger-than-usual male one at that, holding a great metal trident of casual making in both of his hands. A trail of tall, turquoise, sail-like fins raced down his back, and the long beard-like barbel appendages lining from the edge of his jaw to the front of his chin moved about as he swayed his head.

He looked at the two as he saw their shapes, his reptilian jaws opening and then clacking shut in anticipation to face them. Strangely enough, he wore shoddy leather armor over his muscular frame, leaving him just as, if not even less defended than the two remaining warriors, but his bony shoulders made a fine piece of natural armor. Before going further into the ring, the creature looked up to the sorceress in the booth, and bowed his head to her. Smiling, she nodded back but a single time.

Noticing a small bout of movement to her left, Caelwen looked to the human man from before as he stared at the naga intensely. Gritting his teeth into a fearsome scowl, he charged forth at the creature with a defiant cry. " _For the Alliance!_ " were the words he chose to shout at the top of his aching lungs, sword held aloft over his head and ready to strike.

The naga braced himself for the attack, and soon after, the man's sword deflected off of the trident. Pushing him back with a shove, the naga unleashed a powerful slash that swatted the weapon out of the human's hands, and refocused the tip of his trident on him in a second motion. Thrusting it forward before the human could realize what was happening, he impaled him through his chest armor and lifted his above him with his inhuman strength. After watching the life bled out of his stunned eyes, the naga, with a satisfied expression, tossed his limp figure away like a spent toy and let out a roar of victory that was echoed by the audience.

With one down in such a brief encounter, the naga looked toward Caelwen next. His draconic head tilted to the side as he examined her female shape with the reddish, reptilian eyes he possessed; their pupils dilating into thin slits before widening again. After stroking one of his facial tendrils with a hand, the serpent saw the elf go for her fallen bow with a typical grace in her footsteps.

Lifting her bow from the ground, Caelwen notched an arrow. Nearly a second after taking aim, she shot it at the creature. But, with a hollow _twack_ , the arrowhead broke upon his scaly skin without so much as leaving a mark upon him. Caelwen growled angrily to herself, and the naga peeled what little lips he had back to reveal a long, jagged grin, before suddenly bursting into a charge.

As he was within arm's length of his prey, the naga swung his trident in a downward angle, missing Caelwen and hitting the ground with crash of metal and scattering of moist, sandy soil, before reeling it back and performing a vertical swipe. The night elf ducked below it and jumped forward as quick as a gust of wind, the sword now in both of her hands and ready to strike.

Shouting, she struck him with it, but in a similar exertion as what happened with the arrow, the sword grazed off of the naga's scaly hide, leaving only a minor scrape in its wake. Bellowing an irritated growl at her effort to fatally harm him, the naga swiped his free arm at his assailant, effortlessly hitting her away with the mighty blow. Landing on the ground in a slide, but jumping to her feet before she could stop, Caelwen tried to think of another method of attack. She had but a second to recover, as the naga was already rushing at her with murder on his mind.

Bellowing, he slashed at her once, forcing her to dodge backwards, then did it again, prompting a similar response as the one before it. He continued pressing this form of attack, stabbing, cutting and poking at the nimble night elf, until one attack, a sideways slash, finally hit. The barbed tip of the trident's middle prong cut through a portion of her right stomach, piecing through her Sentinel armor as though it were tin, and forming a gash in her flesh.

Gasping in pain, Caelwen stumbled back several feet, and the naga, tired from his multiple attempts to hit her, stood where he now was and watched. Placing a hand to her abdomen, Caelwen then lifted it to her face as she saw the warm blood sticking to it, staining her purple skin crimson. Already, past the agony, she began to feel faint and light in the head from the amount of ichor that had spilled from her body to the ground, but took in a large gulp of air and ground her teeth together. Glaring daggers at the naga, he looked back at her with a wide grin.

Mustering what little strength she had, she ran forward at the creature with a roar. Placing his trident back into both of his hands in a defensive position, the naga let out a conceited laugh when she grabbed at it. But no sooner had his cackling commenced, he was caught off guard by a sudden, swift kick that Caelwen was able to plant onto his soft throat, using the trident to push herself at him. Falling to the floor from the top-heavy portion of his muscular body, he just managed to catch himself with his arms. But as he started to push himself back up, Caelwen had already taken a hold of his heavy weapon and stared down at him with a maddened look in her addled eyes.

With a final gasp before darkness overtook all of her senses, Caelwen forced all of her remaining strength into the horizontal swing of the trident, bringing it down upon the naga with pure rage at its backing. Hitting true, the three-pronged weapon's blunt, curving edge impacted against the side of the rising naga's skull, immediately halting his efforts to recuperate and sending him crashing back to the ground with a heavy thud. Her grip slack and no longer driven anything, the trident left Caelwen's hand as it hit its original owner, and the elf collapsed like a fallen log next to the creature.

Neither one moved after that, and the crowd that was there to witness the brutal battle were wracked with shock at its outcome. Their roaring cheers had been silenced to hushed murmurs as it was made clear what had become of the final two combatants, and the naga mistress herself could only look upon them with a loosened jaw and widened eyes of complete surprise, most of this gaze held over the male naga in disbelief. Quickly placing an ugly grimace over her fair face and hissing an order into a nearby subordinate's ear, the guard abandoned the booth and jumped into the arena.

He slithered to the fallen fighters at a crawl, and delicately pressed a careful index claw upon their jugulars one at a time. When he received the results he was searching for, he chomped his fangs together and moved a hand through the tendrils lining the side of his jaw. Looking up to his mistress solemnly, the guard gave single nod, confirming what was originally thought.

Both of them, through the loss of blood in one and blunt trauma in the other, had knocked each of themselves unconscious.

* * *

 **Author's notes:** Feel free to give me yer opinion on the story so far! I could always use the reviews to improve things, or take suggestions that could make things better.


	2. Chapter 2: A Worthy Opponent

By the scowling look on her face alone, any naga could sense that Lady Vesh'ari was not in a charitable mood. As she strode down the cavern's long, winding pathway by herself, her mind could only focus on that fight she now regretted seeing in the arena. It was embarrassing enough that her younger brother had come to a draw to a damnable night elf, but to be bludgeoned into unconsciousness with his own weapon? 'Utterly disgraceful' were the only two words that came to her ever-scheming mind with that.

The Depthweaver tribe she led was a clan of hardy pit fighters and powerful spellcasters, and was but one of many held in thrall to the sea witch and tidemistress Athissa of the Hatecoil, who in turn was a prized servant to Azshara, queen of all naga. When she finally arrived at her brother's chamber and slipped into the spacious room after pushing back the concealing curtain of kelp, she found a pair of naga handmaidens were tending to his bulky shape over his bed of smooth stone and soft objects taken from the sea; mending his ailment with their water-based magics focused over his head.

Upon noticing their lady's presence, the two ceased their activity and looked to her. "Leave us," she spoke to them in an emotionless voice, raising one of her lower hands and pointing to the entryway. Heeding her without even so much as a hint of dissent, the two maidens respectfully bowed to their mistress and quietly left the room, slithering past the slightly taller Vesh'ari and through the seaweed drapes. One they were gone, Vesh'ari cast a baleful glare at her brother, who was now sitting up from his bed, revealing the large and darkened welt he bore over the leftmost part of his crown.

"That was a shameful display you performed today, Se'jash," she snapped at him. "You are lucky that I have decided not to exile you for your disappointment."

"And a sincere hello to you as well, dear Sister," Se'jash sneered back with a small chuckle, fully leaving his bedding with an overly happy look painted over his predatory face. Vesh'ari couldn't help but raise a brow at how he responded.

"And why do you look so euphoric, Brother?" she asked, sounding quite offset by his cheerfulness and truly wondering if that blow to his head had driven him mad.

He flashed another grin of sharpened teeth at his older sibling. "Because, dear sister, I have finally found one opponent worthy of my gaze," he told her. "To submit to one's bloodlust in their last waking, agonizing moments of awareness and alertness. To take up one's enemy's own arms and use them against them to marvelous efficiency! To best _me_ fairly!"

Vesh'ari lowered her brow and tapped her webbed fingers across her staff's grip. "You were humiliated by a night elf, and you find this to be a... _good_ thing?"

"Yes," he hissed, his tone lowering into one of dull seriousness as he slithered to a corner of the room that held his true, dark-colored armor attached to the jagged wall. "She is a foe worthy of defeating. No one else has come even close to besting me in that pit in all these years. You should know that best."

"And I do. You gave up wearing your battle armor and usage of a decent weapon in the arena long ago for that trivial reason," Vesh'ari grunted, tapping her staff to the ground and leaning on it slightly.

"But that elf has become the one to surpass all others in sheer prowess. And judging from the gossip those handmaidens whispered over my aware ears, she lives to fight me again. Oh, what luck!"

"You do not wish for her immediate death?" the lady of the Dephthweaver asked the lord.

"No. Let her live. Let her heal. Let her regain her strength, so that I may face her properly."

Lady Vesh'ari looked shocked at first by what he had spoken, but then again, this was how she always knew her brother for acting. His stubbornness and lust for an opponent worthy of his time in the gladiatorial arena was practically legendary among the tribe. "You may have a love for battle, but by Azshara, your bullheadedness will lead to your death one day, Brother," she muttered. "And when that day shall inevitably come, do not expect me to grieve for your passing."

Se'jash laughed aloud at his sister's scorn, as he began to head for the opening of his room, picking up his true, trusty trident on the way out. "I will not expect it then, nor will I beg for it, my Lady."

As he was about to depart, Vesh'ari quickly noticed and once more thumped the butt of her staff to the ground in annoyance at his actions. "Where are you off to now?"

"To check over the elf. To see if she is faring well," he responded, continuing on his path unhindered. "I wish to face her again as soon as possible. If that is to pass, leaving her in the care of the myrmidons is... most inopportune."

Vesh'ari could care less for the hated night elf's health, but in the end, after humoring Se'jash's wish and giving it _some_ thought, she let out a sigh and lowered her head in defeat over her sibling's demands. "Very well. You may tend to her needs," she said with a flick of one of her wrists. "But the moment she seems fit for battle, you must fight her to the death, and not a moment sooner."

"And that is where our interests intertwine," Se'jash smirked as he left.

* * *

Caelwen awoke with a start as she sat up from the damp and cold, smooth-rock ground, gasping. Clasping her side in pain with both hands, a fiery agony ripped through her entire body, and once she had gotten as used to the pain as she could manage many minutes later, she looked around and saw she was in a prisoner's cage, not unlike the last one she had been trapped in. But this time she was alone, and the coral bars were of a much thicker and dense variety.

Looking herself over, much of her armor had been removed from her body, save for the more basic clothing needs, and an array of bandages that wrapped around from her chest to her side. Where they rested over her wound was the part that was stained red with her dried blood. She could still feel the barbed tip of the old trident as it cut through her, and it made her wince slightly in painful memory.

Crawling to the only place she could really see out of, which to say was the door, she looked out through the bone-carved bars that made it up. Banner-like fetishes, adorned with various pieces of sea life and brightly-colored cloth with strange symbols on them were stuck on either side of the front of her prison's entrance like a pair of flags denominating something important, which Caelwen immediately drew to the conclusion was her, for whatever reason.

Her mind felt blurry and distorted surrounding the last moments of being conscious. She tried to think back to it, but all her mind came up with was a flash of red. She was so caught up with trying to remember what exactly had transpired and why she wasn't dead, that she only realized a bulky figure had approached her cell after the sound of the door creaking open with a cracking noise went out. The large form of a male naga came inside, stretched a clawed hand out, and carefully placed something in front of the elf before retreating and locking the door behind himself. Her focus taken off of her thoughts, Caelwen looked to what it was.

It was a plate made from the shell of a large mollusk of some sort. Upon it were some clams that had been steamed, given the warmth and smell surrounding them. There was also an abalone that was served raw, some fish that had been cooked, albeit rather poorly, and fresh water sitting inside of a cup that had been carved out of a bone-white coral. After taking a long sip from the drink to quench her thirst and then picking one of the clams up, Caelwen pulled it open with her dirty fingers and took a small bite of the fleshy meat resting inside. It tasted salty and was very chewy, but other than that it didn't have any taste at all, much to her ire.

As she placed it back down, a deep, masculine voice spoke up from the cell's door. "That was a good fight out there," it said. Looking up, she could see the naga that had presented the meal was looking down at her with one of his ruby-red eyes from the other side of the closed entryway; a large trident of impressive making and detailed design clutched in one of his hands. "One of the best in a great many seasons."

"You saw it?" Caelwen decided to ask, against her better judgement when it came to starting conversation with an accursed naga. Her lips curled into a frown. "I would not be surprised. There appeared to be a whole clan of your kind out there."

"'Saw' is not the choice of words I would personally use..." the naga enigmatically mumbled, turning his full head to her for the elf to see. When Caelwen used the chance to look him over, she saw him subtly motioning to the upper left side of his skull, which had a dark purple bruise covering it. Through the blurriness of her memories, the elf suddenly remembered striking that naga in her last waking moments of alertness, before darkness overcame her addled sight.

"It's you... isn't it?" she inquired. He nodded back, allowing his facial tendrils to sway with his green head.

"Yes. I am the one who wounded you, and in turn was struck down. The blow I received was mighty enough to knock me unconscious. Surprising, considering your kind's lack of physical strength."

Her visage turned to once of annoyance. "Mind telling me why you've decided to give me such repugnant food?"

"We naga have not had to cook our meals for eons," he explained. "It is an adaptation we have gained from the Old Gods themselves, so we do not have as much experience with 'cooking'. A thousand pardons for the inconvenience."

Caelwen noted the sarcasm in his last sentence with a hint of disdain, and replied in kind. "Oh it's nothing, really. I've had worse..."

"Come now," the creature said in a spirited way. "One so low as yourself should not address a lord in such an impolite tone." These words alone provoked a feeling of both surprise and curiosity within the elf.

"A Lord, eh?" she inquired, shifting herself closer to the bars of the cell in an intrigued manner. "You certainly didn't dress like one in the arena."

"I prefer to give my prey a sporting chance to defeat me, but what you have set in motion provides an excellent opportunity," the naga proudly replied. "I wish to face you again, as we did earlier, but I want our confrontation to be much more fair and grand. I want to face you with both of us in much more proper equipment than what had been used today."

"Another fight? Between just the two of us?" Caelwen spoke, her fingers raking their nails across the coarse ground. "As flattered as I am, I do not see the reasoning in that. I was trained at a young age to use certain weapons. If some _thing_ like you wishes for a fair fight, then you'll have to accommodate those needs."

"Do not fret your weary mind over matters such as that. When the Stormscale tribe that I have heard captured you in the first place traded you to us, they handed over your weapons and full armor set as well. When the time comes where you are as fit to fight as I am, you shall be given them. I want a fight that gives you as much of a chance at tasting the sweet blood of victory as I. I want a clash that I can _remember_ , whether I take it to my grave or otherwise. And if you do win, elf, then you will have earned your freedom, and my tribe will let you go. That I promise you."

The night elf didn't look too comforted by his words. As she brushed her long, and somewhat tangled teal hair back and turned her face away from the front of the prison, and Se'jash saw that she did not appear to be in the mood for any more of this kind of discussion.

"I see you do not wish to talk further," he spoke again. "But before I leave, There one last thing on my mind. If we are to soon face each other in a final confrontation, then you _must_ tell me something... What is your name?"

Caelwen thought about not responding to the creature for the next several seconds, but eventually relented with a sigh. "Caelwen," she quietly revealed.

"A name appropriate for a warrior such as you," replied the naga, almost civilly. "I am Se'jash of the Depthweaver. I look forward to our future fight, my newest acquaintance."

She shifted him an unfriendly glare before lowering her head again and folding her arms together. Se'jash knew she did not wish to discuss anything an inch further, and habitually stroked one of his fleshy facial tendrils thoughtfully. "Farewell for now, Caelwen. I will return eventually, to check on your condition."

Caelwen uttered a huff as she watched him slowly depart from her prison and approach a lone and small, but dark pool of water that must have lead to elsewhere, if one were to submerge themselves in it and travel under the salty water. Looking to her a final time before focusing forward, he slipped into the drink and away from sight; the ripples he left behind soon settling. Her stomach rumbling, asking for something to fill it, Caelwen walked back to where the food lied and began to eat some of the tasteless appetizers at her leisure.


	3. Chapter 3: Wounds

Trident in hand, Se'jash slowly swam deeper through the dark, moonlit sea off the coast of his tribe's small island chain. His serpentine hind section pushed his large, brawny body forward at a medium pace, and his fins cut through the salty water like a sharpened knife. The cold of the far depths made him feel quite at home, and he inhaled the briny liquid with deep, peaceful breaths through his gills.

But while he liked to swim for the pleasure of it most times, he was looking for one thing as well. Something he dubbed important. That night elf's injury would take far too long to heal if he were to just let it be, and according to what he heard from the members of the tribe that had been keeping an eye on her, she was refusing to be tended to by healing magics. Se'jash needed something that would mend her properly, but also have it be of a more... 'natural' flavor.

Continuing on, many sights greeted his roving, predatory eyes as he submerged himself deeper into the ocean's depths. He passed by many tropical fish and paddle-tailed sea snakes, forests of dark green kelp that one could simply get lost in, natural coral formations displaying colors of pure, untouched beauty, and a variety of sea creatures that watched the naga with wary eyes. The creatures, mostly intelligent ocean hunters, the occasional gilgoblin, and a great many deep sea murlocs, all gave their own cautious and fearful looks at Se'jash as he swam past with his equally-intimidating weapon, before backing away or swimming off to hide from his searching gaze if he grew close.

As the naga lord went down further into the ocean's pressurized bowels, unperturbed in the slightest by the feeling that would instantly crush the unadapted, the moonlight began to become blotted out from the darkness below. It was there he finally found what he was looking for. Sitting near the edge of an undersea cliff, growing out of the side of the rock was a small cluster of plants bearing a similar-looking, but greatly smaller appearance to that of normal seaweed. Their leaves were of a vivid crimson color, and were sitting on the end of thin stalks. Swimming up to it, he touched the long, leafy parts of the plant, making sure from the moist feeling that he had found the right vegetation. Tearing out just a handful of the plant's leaves and stalks, he turned his body around and began the long swim back to his tribe's territory.

* * *

Caelwen drifted in-and-out of sleep for most of the indeterminable time of day, as all that took up her perspective was a near-lightless cave. Her head felt rather hot from what she was willing to bet was a developing flu or fever brought upon her by the cold and dank conditions she was in, but it was nothing she couldn't ignore and hope would pass on. Her mind became fully awake and aware though, as the sound of something approaching her prison brought her eyes to the door. And there a familiar (or as much as it could be) shape stood.

"Greetings," Se'jash spoke, entering and closing the door behind him.

"Hello," she halfheartedly returned, before her eyes widened at the sight of the red plants he had clutched in one of his large claws. "What are those you have in your hand?" she asked next, a rightfully wary suspicion in her volume.

"It is a rare weed that grows near the bottom of the ocean in these parts. They exude a substance that heals wounds in a fantastically short amount of time," he replied, his voice sounding quite friendly as he slithered by her side and lowered his body into a coil. Caelwen felt too sore to move herself, and so tried her best to tolerate just being that close to his presence. Looking to the bloodstained bandages attached to her lower side, Se'jash reached his free claw to it, when Caelwen shot her hand at his, stopping it.

"No," she mumbled, glaring at him. "I'll heal on my own if you give me time."

"Even without the threat of infection, that will take too long for my tastes," he disagreed. "And besides, these are helpful. They will hurt when I apply them, but when I take them off, I promise you that you will feel no more pain in that area."

Caelwen looked completely unconvinced. "There is a saying among my kind that tells of the many reasons why one should never trust the words of a naga," she rebutted, her fierce grip fighting against his own in a war of attrition. "Shall I list them off for you?"

"I have no reason to lie to you," Se'jash replied, his deep voice sounding humorless and sincere. "I implore you to listen to me, Caelwen."

Hearing him utter her name appeared to cause her to relent slightly. With a visage of reluctance, she finally did as he said and took her hands off of his arm. Now free to do as he wanted, Se'jash began to slowly, but carefully peel back the bandages with his claws. Caelwen looked all around the cell for something to focus her attention on until he finished the deed, but as she looked back to him when she found nothing, she saw there seemed to be a glint - just a glint - of caution and care shining in his eyes that caught her off guard. As the last of the bandages were removed, revealing the large and still-festering wound, Caelwen looked to it once before turning her face away from the nauseating sight.

Muffling a growl, Caelwen winced back and ground her teeth together as the first weed was suddenly placed over the open injury. It was a sensation that felt as hot as lava, yet frigid like ice. One of her hands curled into a tight ball, the other shot toward Se'jash's arm in reaction. She began to dig her fingers into his tough and rubbery flesh until red blood began to drip out over his green scales. The naga didn't even seem fazed by it.

"I've placed the last one over your wound. The pain will subside momentarily," he told her after what felt like an eternity, when in reality it was less than two minutes.

"Are you... sure about that?" she grunted through her closed teeth as her hand retracted from him, one of her eyes still shut in agony as the other glared at the creature angrily like a burning coal.

"I am," he confidently responded. Several minutes soon passed, and while her writhing and cries began to stop as the tortuous feelings started to leave her, drained her of her stamina and left her exhausted beyond measure, Caelwen eventually fell into the awaiting and tantalizing arms of sleep.

* * *

Her eyes opening, Caelwen awoke a while later. To her relief, the pain in her midsection had gone numb, but her head still hurt with that same fiery headache. Mumbling something to herself as she brushed a heavy hand over her forehead, she looked around and almost jumped as she realized a large, green shape had been looming next to her the entire time.

Despite his rigid stillness, Se'jash was still very much awake, and his eyes were focused on her like a pair of glassy gemstones, as though examining her. After finishing her own round of staring in his direction, Caelwen looked to the red weeds wrapped over her abdomen.

"H-how much longer?" she asked him, having decided to end the silence that sat over the pair like a noxious cloud. Se'jash reverberated a long hum as he calculated the time.

"A short while," he bluntly answered. Sighing, Caelwen's head bumped against the coral wall she sat beside and she bit her lip. Having become intrigued by his prisoner immensely, Se'jash decided to ask her something he formulated in his mind while she had slept.

"I am curious," he suddenly began, looking to her. "The only things I know about you are your name and skill in battle. What else is there that you are willing to share about yourself?" Caelwen didn't see the harm in responding to a question such as this, and willingly did so.

"I serve as a Sentinel, and my life is indifferent to any of theirs," she started, until her bland expression started to change. "But... I suppose there are some things that mark me as different."

"Do tell," he said. Whether it was the sheer politeness in the naga's tone, or perhaps the fact she had not spoken to anyone she knew for some time and longed for such company, Caelwen began to share her tale.

"Well, I got captured by naga for starters," she spoke with a brief, hopeless laugh, her face becoming grimmer soon after. "But it was before all this when my life changed. My parents were just simple merchants living in Darkshore, and as a young girl, I thought my path in life would be no different. All that changed when they were both killed by a satyr and some foul human cultists serving under it after a raid on my village."

Se'jash listened to what she spoke with a respectful nod of his head, and when the night elf brought up the fate of her parents, he mumbled understandingly.

She went on. "I grew up and devoted myself to the cause of the Sentinels. It was a few years after I joined them that I found out that same satyr was still alive, and still living in Darkshore. Since he didn't seem to be that much more than a trivial threat, and also since nobody could find the time or energy to go after him, I took matters into my own hands. I... decided to go out on my own and find him. I successfully did so, and I slayed him in his own den."

It was here that Se'jash decided to say a question he had, licking his lips with his long tongue before doing so as he imagined the kill she made. "How did you feel when you finished off the satyr, Caelwen?"

"I felt... a lot of things," came her still voice. "As I separated his head from his shoulders, it felt like a... _rush_ of emotion erupted in my mind and through every vein of my body. Rage, hatred-"

"Joy?"

Caelwen looked at him as he asked the question. "What?"

"Did you feel joy when you took his life?" he spoke again, his eyes locked on hers. "Did you take pleasure in ending his miserable existence upon this world? Did you feel pure and blissful satisfaction knowing you personally avenged your parents' deaths?"

Caelwen bit her lip again as her glowing gray eyes looked away from the naga, before her head lowered and she murmured something. "Yes, I did."

Se'jash couldn't help but smile to himself as he heard her answer. "You sound sorrowful Caelwen, yet you should not be. Revenge is something that one should never regret performing. It is something one must _savor_ when it comes to its wondrous fulfillment." His fists were clenched together in memory of the times he extracted his own acts of vengeance against despised and pretentious rivals. "That sense of lowness once it ends is only a natural feeling. After all, all good things must eventually come to end, if it cannot be helped."

Unhappy with herself for replying to his original query, Caelwen went quiet. Seeing her reaction, Se'jash ran a hand through his beard of tendrils before placing a claw atop the bruise on his head, feeling the vibrantly sore sensation that came with it. "Now, I suppose it is fair to regale to you _my_ origins now," he suddenly spoke.

The night elf's head arose as she heard what the naga said through her pointed ears, and one of her long brows curled downward in confusion. Se'jash began to speak, looking to the open top of the cell as he recollected his past; as though his eyes could peer through the cavern's ceiling and gaze into the night sky. "My sister Vesh'ari and I were born as part of the second-generation naga. We were raised by our tribe into adulthood, upon which the two of us set out and created _this_ tribe, the Depthweaver clan, together. Her power in the field of sorcery and my unrivaled skill in battle allowed the fledgling minnows who accompanied us to become great warriors and tidepriestesses in their own right."

Caelwen smirked sardonically at his enthusiasm to tell his life story, happy that the previous one she had shared was being replaced. "That sounds like quite a challenging feat to accomplish."

He nodded in agreement with her assessment, before a sharp hiss escaped his closed jaw. "Most naga that try to accomplish what we performed fail miserably, but we managed and grew only stronger from whatever hardships we faced. The saddest thing is, we seem to only live to hone our skills in these more recent years. Our archipelago far too remote to receive unwelcome interlopers, save for the occasional passing ship that grows too close, or the random skirmish our tribe has with rivals envious of our territory. That is why we have set up our gladiatorial arena. It curbs our need to sink our teeth into the warm flesh of others."

"And that is how I presume we met?" she asked him.

"In other words... yes." He exhaled a quick, deep breath of air through his nostrils, a small smile over his face. "But now, I believe it is time to remove those weeds from your wound. May I...?"

Willingly giving him space to work, Caelwen watched as Se'jash placed his hands onto the red plants, and with gentleness unbefitting of his appearance, he slowly extracted the weeds. Unable to pull her eyes away from whatever the outcome of her injury was, to Caelwen's visible surprise, the wound looked almost fully healed. All that remained of the gash before was some old blood that had been sitting there for some time, and a long, but minor line of indented skin covering her purple flesh, and that was something that would quickly heal on its own.

"Well, it is done," came Se'jash's voice. Caelwen's amazed face left her treated injury, and she looked to the naga, who had stealthily left her side and was now standing in the doorway of the cell with the spent red weeds in one of his claws. "I hope to see you soon again. I will bring you some food when the morning comes, and when that time arrives, perhaps... we may discuss other things before our final battle comes for us?"

"Perhaps..." she said back, trailing off. Showing the elf a toothy, but strangely good-natured grin, Se'jash nodded to her and closed the prison door behind her before he left.


	4. Chapter 4: The Duel

Se'jash stood alone in his chamber, eyeing the sea plants that had been used to heal Caelwen.

The now three-day-old weeds, still drenched in the night elf's long-dried blood, hung from a post near his bedding. The scent they bore still remained fresh within his mind, and it was a smell he could not get out of his head. That elf, Caelwen, was someone who had taken over almost every part of his mind. He could not wait to face her, but... he also started to wish it could wait.

As he said he would before, the two had indeed talked to each other as the last few days passed them by. After the second day had passed, the two were getting along in their little chats like a pair of old friends. Se'jash himself had few 'friends' within the clan he knew well, and much fewer still that he liked to speak with. His weapons before battle like a master talking to his loyal pets. His sister was one whom he occasionally went to for knowledge his lesser mind could not figure out on its own. He sometimes even spoke to Azshara or the Old Gods at one of their many altars, if he was in the mood to submit a prayer to them.

But Caelwen was... something else. Instead of speaking to her like any naga living under his sister's rule, he felt more like he was opening himself up to that elf. It was as if he were a clam exposing its unprotected insides for a fish to gawk at. And for a reason he couldn't explain, he cared not for how much he showed her.

Ceasing his staring, he slithered over to the edge of the room that held his armor. Reaching for it, he donned the various pieces of it over his green-scaled body. He placed his large pauldrons over his shoulders, the thick chestplate over his front, and the long gauntlets over his arms and hands. His long dorsal fins stretched out to their fullest height as he examined himself in a nearby mirror pool he had positioned on the ground nearby. He had every reason to be on edge now.

After all, today was the day the duel would take place.

* * *

Caelwen was not doing well in the slightest.

Her once lilac-purple skin had turned to a deathly lavender pallor, brought on not by fear by what she was told was coming soon, but by what she now knew was disease. That headache from a few days ago had progressed into a full-on fever, all thanks to the cold, damp and altogether poor conditions of her prison. She felt weakness in her joints, soreness in all of her limbs, and a crippling headache that made her want to close her eyes and groan for hours. Throughout all that was happening though she tried her best to ignore it, but the sweat that ran down her forehead and the deep, aching breaths she exhaled said otherwise.

In other news, her wound was fully mended and looked almost as if there had not been an injury in the first place, save for the thin, barely-visible scar that remained. In an effort to take her mind off of both the upcoming fight and the virus running rampant in her body, she allowed her mind to go to the naga that had convinced her to change her opinion toward him.

By Elune, Se'jash was an individual she could not figure out. She could not pinpoint exactly what emotion she felt toward him, but whatever it was she had no idea whether to like it or not. After all, he had been the one to wound her greatly, but then again he was the one who tended to her afterword. He was the one who gave her food and water. He was the one who got her to somehow _smile_ despite her predicament. The way he was so civil and caring in spite of his appearance, species and wish to fight her continued to baffle the elf.

As she left her thoughts on that peculiar naga, Caelwen looked to the door of her prison as she noticed a motion of movement catch her eye. What were approaching were two male naga, one of whom held a sack in his hands. Opening her prison and tossing it in, what spilled out from it was what Caelwen recognized through her sickened haze as her armor.

Deciding not to disappoint them, she got to her feet at a leisurely pace and approached her equipment. Calmly handling the various pieces, Caelwen began to put on her armor over her body. After it was done she gave a small nod to the two green-scaled creatures. The first one, armed with a scimitar in his right hand, slithered in and growled, pointing to the door with his sword. With little choice in the matter, she did what he wanted, and exited without an argument. The two males followed behind Caelwen as she entered the long, dark tunnel, making sure she stayed on the path to the arena.

The end of the tunnel came into sight a few minutes later, and another naga stood there, waiting for her. In his hands were what the night elf quickly recognized were her bow, her elven arrows and her moonglaive. Each of them looked the way they did when she last used them, and just seeing her weapons allowed a euphoric feeling to flow through her. With careful hands, she accepted her weapons. Fixing the satchel and bow over her back, with her three-bladed moonglaive in hand, she was prodded in the back by one of the two myrmidons from before to enter the fighting pit. Looking into it she saw, after her eyes adjusted to the light, that in the center stood a lone figure clad in heavy armor and holding a large trident. Just seeing his face revealed to her that it was Se'jash.

After she finished walking up to him, Caelwen looked to Se'jash. The two began to stare at each other, and it lasted for a few, short minutes. Up on the main booth overlooking the gladiatorial ring, Lady Vesh'ari sat with her four hands held together and their webbed fingers all tented, while her tail held onto and balanced her staff. Her faith held in her brother, she could not wait to watch that elf die.

Just looking Caelwen over and how she was told Se'jash that something was off. As if she was attempting to hide or hold in something. Deciding that his thoughts were merely being toyed with by her new, armored and armed shape, or possibly some trick she was trying to use against him, his visage tightened into a glare and he snapped his jaws together with a bestial hiss. Raising his trident in an offensive gesture, he started to slowly slither around her. Caelwen, raising her moonglaive in response, did as he did.

The two began to circle each other. Se'jash's body left a long, smooth trail in the wet, sandy ground, and Caelwen's footsteps left a series of tracks. The crowd watching them from all corners, anticipation building up in the air, waited for the first blow to be struck. The fragile silence that surrounded them was finally broken when Se'jash unleashed a roar and lunged at Caelwen with his trident pointed forward. With only a second to spare, Caelwen ducked under his arm and raised her weapon to his shape as she dodged by him; intending to use the momentum of the naga against himself. One of her moonglaive's three blades struck at the lower side of her foe's dark armor, and while it left a wicked cut that showed well, it failed to completely pierce through it.

Se'jash spun around and faced her. With purpose in her movement, Caelwen had jumped far back, sheathed her moonglaive to her side and took out a bow, notching an arrow onto it. Se'jash had no time to react as she fired at him, but the arrow whizzed by his head, missing him by a scant inch. Elves were well know for their near-supernatural accuracy with bows and arrows, and yet what had just occurred went utterly against such a fact. Se'jash could not dwell on this thought, as he was still in the middle of battle, and so burst forward toward her in a charge.

Caelwen looked shocked upon realizing that she had missed him, all thanks to a sudden mixture of both heavy nauseousness and crippling weakness in her arms and legs. She was unable to move quick enough as the far larger form of Se'jash came upon her. His trident swinging, it cut through her shoulder and the armor covering it with ease. Blood erupting from the wound, she was thrown back by the force of the blow with a cry and crashed upon the ground. The crowd watching cheered in approval of the spectacle they witnessed, and the sound of their voices shouting in unison was almost deafening. Vesh'ari felt tempted to join them, but remained silent as she watched the event unfold to what she hoped would be its conclusion.

Despite her desperate attempt to stand, Caelwen's limbs refused to listen to her, and so she remained where she lied. Coughing, she was just able to place her hand onto her moonglaive and lift her head, only to see the monstrous shape of Se'jash looming over her, casting his large shadow down upon her.

The fight was over. Those were the four words that went through every naga's head as they watched the sight unfold. Finally getting just enough strength from her arms to push herself to her knees, Caelwen looked to Se'jash and saw the three prongs of his trident, stained dark red with her blood, pointed at her face. Letting her moonglaive drop limply from her hand, she closed her eyes, accepting the fate that was to come. Ready for her death, she willingly just sat there on her knees for it until a question graced her long, pointed ears.

"Are you... _sick?_ "

Caelwen's eyes opened. She was still alive, and her opponent had spoken something. "What was that... you said?" she weakly voiced, dumbfounded that he had not finished her off. Se'jash suddenly stretched his free hand out and placed it over her forehead in a quick motion, feeling the strong warmth coming off of it with a scowl; his earfins extending out in a furious display. A second later, he removed his palm.

"You _are_ sick, aren't you?" Se'jash spoke again, finally understanding why she fought so underwhelmingly. His trident lowered with his arm, and his face transformed to one of disappointment. That expression soon soured into a visage of anger, and he slowly turned his head up to where Vesh'ari sat, who was watching her brother relent to execute the elf with great confusion.

"It seems our true duel must be postponed," he spoke aloud in a voice that was heard by all as he stuck the top of his weapon to the ground. "My opponent has caught a disease that has hindered her performance. I wished only for a fair fight between the two of us, and she is still unfit to fulfill that demand."

Vesh'ari left her seat and moved to the edge of her booth, peering down at her brother and the elf with a faint hint of indignation in her refined eyes. "What is the meaning of this, Se'jash?"

"I know what I said." A deep growl reverberated within Se'jash's throat as he turned a low, red eye back to Caelwen behind him. She was shakily getting to her legs, one of her hands held to her wounded shoulder and the other hanging loosely by her side as he went on. "And it _will_ go as I said. You promised me that much, my Lady."

He gave his sister a low, sarcastic bow, and slithered over to Caelwen. "Follow me," a whisper came lightly from his reptilian maw, his hand taking hers into his own. She did not fight back as he began to lead her out of the arena, into an opening tunnel. From where she stood, Vesh'ari wore a disagreeing frown at her brother's actions, and with a brief turn, she quietly left.

As they walked through the tunnel, Caelwen trailed behind Se'jash. Blood continued to drip from the injury she held her hand to, but it felt more numb than painful. Se'jash peered at her from over his shoulder several times, and stopped in his tracks when he saw her halt mid-stride. Her legs had ceased to go a step further, and her entire body was shaking horrendously.

"Can you still walk?" he asked her, very much concerned. Caelwen gave an unsure look to him.

"I... can't," she answered, her breathing becoming very faint as the fever progressed on. Just before she could collapse, and without warning, Caelwen felt as another hand came upon the back of her legs and lifted her up from the ground as Se'jash hoisted the elf's body into his brawny arms. Far too taken by her disease, all she could do was allow him to perform this action with a close-eyed grimace of disapproval. Secured gently in his grasp, the naga began to move with her to another location.

Soon after, Caelwen began to feel her mind fade to nothing. It was urging her to rest. To sleep and recover. With all that had happened, it was a feeling her body fully welcomed, and she soon slipped into a deep unconsciousness in Se'jash's arms as he speedily brought her elsewhere.


	5. Chapter 5: Advice From a Mad Prophet

Slithering down one of the many tunnels of the cavern, Lady Vesh'ari traveled with a hint of displeasure in her stride. Se'jash still refused to kill that elf, and this entire situation she allowed had gone from a minor nuisance she had to tolerate, to a full-blown embarrassment she knew she _had_ to quell before her stubborn sibling made a damn _pet_ of the hated creature. Already she could hear the objections of dissent voicing themselves among her people, pointing out their urge to watch the night elf die, only to watch her executioner refuse to perform the deed over trivial matters naga did not typically associate themselves with as strongly as he did. And that was why she was headed for the Great Sanctum in search of an answer.

Most naga within the tribe would visit the many shrines and statues built around the surface of the island to pay tribute or pray to Azshara or the Old Gods, but within the caverns they lived in there was an old sanctum that held great importance. Only those with severe problems or immense offerings would come to this place to seek divine guidance.

Naga who passed by the sanctum would sometimes hear mad laughter from within. Or occasionally a shriek that would curdle one's blood. Or just ramblings that droned on for hours. Though it seemed devoid of any worthy and intelligent creatures, there was one who haunted it, and she was as revered among the tribe as she was questioned.

Tidepriestess Zajra.

Zajra was an ancient creature, even amongst her fellow naga. She was from a time where the highborne were still elves, and was the only one in the entire Depthweaver tribe to have walked beside Azshara before she made the pact with the Old Gods for their current forms. Long ago she had gone blind, and her mind was as broken as the first Well of Eternity. She would often spout crazed gibberish, mad prophecies that typically failed to pass, or speak to voices that no one else heard but herself. Normally one would pass these off as the senile rantings of one who had simply gone insane, but the times her prophecies _did_ come to fruition with unnerving accuracy astounded many, though the chance of them being faulty made it hard to trust such predictions.

Also, unbeknownst to many, she _occasionally_ had her moments of clarity. And as Lady Vesh'ari found out in her youth, back when she spent an abnormally long amount of time with the old tidepriestess whom she held in higher regard than most, it came from _patience_. Being the only one willing to care for the 'Mad Prophet', Zajra cared for Vesh'ari as well. Making sense of some of her otherwise nutty side-rants revealed minor details about her rivals, and putting her clever and cunning mind, as well as her brother at times to good use, she plotted against them accordingly until she surgically moved through the ranks of their old clan's hierarchy. And now that she was the one in power after breaking off from the old, decaying tribe, she made sure that Zajra didn't have to worry about anything anymore. It was the least she could repay her for, after all.

Finally reaching the cavern where the sanctum was kept, Vesh'ari peered in. In the far back, carved directly out of the cave's wall, was a tall, magnificent statue of Queen Azshara herself. Her features looked impossibly well-etched, from her ethereally beautiful and watchful face, to her stone 'skin', to the snakes that were her hair. Surrounding the statue, and the room for that matter, were carvings and glyphs depicting the Old Gods and their race's history, dating from the Great Sundering to the present.

The room would seem empty to the untrained eye, but that was not the case. Lurking in the deep pool that surrounded the two halves of the otherwise circular room like a moat were three naga brutes of a blue coloration. The beasts were an even more monstrous subspecies of their race, and instead of possessing a serpentine hind section as all normal naga did, they had stubby back legs for their enormous, apish front sections to balance out on. As they saw Vesh'ari enter the holy area they guarded, they all lifted their reptilian heads from the water where they floated in and looked to her with the six beady eyes that rested on each's face, sensing an intruder.

"Be still, pets," she quietly said to them. As Vesh'ari uttered her words, the creatures all recognized her voice as they had been trained to, and sunk uncaringly back into the water. Vesh'ari went further into the holy place until she had reached its center and there she sat.

"Tidepriestess, I wish to speak with you," Vesh'ari said aloud, causing the area to fill with a small echo. As soon as she had spoken, a flash of movement caught her eye, and she turned to it.

From just behind the statue of Azshara, a shape began to emerge. It was an old and haggard shape, pale as a ghost from centuries without experiencing sunlight. She was thinner than a starved murloc, and scars, most of which were self-inflicted, lied scattered across her body in an almost rhythmic pattern. Also hooked into her scaly hide at seemingly random were piercings of bone, rock and metal. The webbed fins over her head and back looked tattered but still bore a faint orange complexion. Perhaps the most striking feature of this naga were her two gray and clouded eyes, telling any who looked her way that she was as blind as a cave-dwelling fish.

"Sing your praises, say your prayers. One wanders in where the faithful shalt dare..." the old creature murmured in a decrepit voice, seemingly to herself, slipping her aged form to the ground with a jagged smile about her face. Without warning, she suddenly rushed at Vesh'ari at a speed many would flinch away at. Instead of performing such an action, Vesh'ari held firm and stayed where she stood without even a snivel of surprise. When Zajra was but a foot away she halted her advances to a dead stop and stood as high as she could.

Her blind eyes looked everywhere except at Vesh'ari, but her four hands, bony and frail, stretched out and grabbed ahold of Vesh'ari's face, feeling the comparably younger naga over. Vesh'ari simply ignored the act and let the tidepriestess finish her examination, waiting uncomplainingly for her to recognize her.

"It is our lady. You have come here to me. Seeking... _something_. Not prayer, not teachings... My sweet child, you have... _questions_... what is your question, daughter of the sea?" Zajra asked in a venerable, maternal voice, as if sensing the problem that was afoot.

"I am worried for my brother, Tidepriestess," Vesh'ari replied. "I fear something is wrong with Se'jash. He has been acting most peculiar as of late."

"Something is wrong with our lord?" Zajra inquired, taking her hands off of Vesh'ari. "Hmm... not many things takes up our lord's mind but war and bloodshed. When did these alien cravings start?"

"After that night elf appeared. That gods-damned night elf..." she grunted back. "Her name is one I do not remember, but I believe she has been slowly twisting Se'jash's mind around. Do you have any thoughts on her, Tidepriestess?"

To this, Zajra let out a long cackle. "In that one's heart and soul the moon will die and from her throat will come a forsaking cry. But as an olden curse claims her body like a molten sword, she will regret not a single word. Can you not see those brittle words? They flutter like little birds. Have you seen the jay turn to the tide, dearest Vesh'ari?"

Before the lady could answer to the nonsensical question, Zajra's clouded and lifeless eyes stared around the damp shrine, still seeing nothing but darkness. Raising her forearms and flailing them about for a brief instant, she suddenly placed both of them to her mouth as a shocked expression came over her face, before lowering them to her side once again. "What was that, sweetest Azshara?" she hissed to a person who was not there, wandering off a short ways. "Yes, I will tell her..."

"Tell me what?" Vesh'ari asked politely.

"About our lord and the elf..." Zajra responded as she went along the floor, approaching the edge of it where a brute was relaxing its head upon from the water that the rest of its enormous body was submerged in. "He wants her. He _needs_ her. For more reasons than one, believe it or not!" she went on, wrapping a hand around one of the large teeth lining the brute's jaw and another over one of its thin lips, rapidly pulling and tugging on them both like a child with a toy. The creature's eyes looked back down at her dumbly. Its six eyes blinked lazily and it let out sniffle from the tip of its crocodilian snout, paying her antics barely any mind as she continued. "He longs for the taste of her blood to appease his avaricious thirst. He yearns to rake his claws over her body and sunder her flesh. He wishes to tear open her chest and devour her _heart_."

"If that is true, then why does he insist on putting such actions off?" Vesh'ari asked. "Not even any 'honor' that lives within him would allow him to ignore such desires." Hearing her, Zajra let go of the brute's mouth and slid over to the statue of Azshara.

"More reasons. More desires. More reasons. More desires. More reasons. More desires." Zajra entered a mad chant as she clambered to the base of the statue, and from there began to clumsily scale the stone construct until she was resting in one of its arms near its head.

"More reasons? More desires?" Vesh'ari repeated, trying to make sense of her enigmatic rantings. "Do you mean to tell me Se'jash is developing... an _attraction_ for this creature?"

Zajra crookedly smiled again as she lovingly began stroking and caressing the face of the statue with her hands. "Sweet Vesh'ari... such a forbidden lust... why, that would be _madness!_ " A disturbed and childish giggling fit befittingly erupted from the ancient naga, and it didn't seem as though it would cease any time soon. Seeing that there was nothing left to be gained from her, Vesh'ari sighed and turned around, slowly departing from the sanctum as the tidepriestess went on with her laughter. As she fully left, Zajra's tittering fit gradually began to lessen in volume until the Great Sanctum was silent once more.

"Yes... madness. Chaos. Incomprehensibleness. Such is the inconceivable and unforeseeable will of the heart. Such is where love, blind, true and passionate, originates and disperses from like the pollen of a flower. Fragrant and queer, but never controlled..." she quietly said to herself as she began to carefully descend from the statue, as though someone fully sentient was still there with her. Upon touching the ground, Zajra turned as best she could back to the statue's face. "That _is_ right, sweet Azshara?"

The statue said nothing, as it always did, but the tidepriestess didn't look irked. With a thoughtful smirk on her old face, Zajra went about her typical business.

* * *

Se'jash restlessly moved around the inside of his chamber, doing nothing else except thinking deeply about everything that had occurred over the past several days. Stopping his pacing after some time went by, he looked to his bed and the figure who lied on it.

He watched Caelwen as she slept upon his own bedding, in his own chamber. She had been out for almost two days now, and he tended to her as best he could while the disease in her body ran its course. Slowly but surely though, the night elf was recovering. Her purple skin tone had become lighter as it was once before, her breathing had returned to normal, and the tense look that was curled over her face now looked calm.

He was angry that she was sick with a debilitating illness and told nobody, but at the same time there were more emotions that pulled at his mind like a reef shark's jaws on his flesh. Seeing her so injured as he carried her away from the arena made his gut twist, and seeing her so peaceful now gave him relief he had never before felt.

 _Such odd feelings_ he thought to himself as he sat on the side of the bed, watching the elf closely. Sometimes she would turn on the bed, and other times she would mumble something, but that was it. Reaching forward, Se'jash brushed back some of the long, teal hair that had fallen over Caelwen's face with a careful hand, and looked at it afterword with a strange expression. _What spell do you have me under, Caelwen?_

Se'jash began to think of what he should do with her next, after watching her go through so much. So he planned that, as soon as Caelwen awoke and was fit enough to move, that he would take her somewhere. A place she could fully recover from the disease and hopefully replenish herself enough to be ready for their next, and surely final duel.

The surface of the island.


	6. Chapter 6: A Place of Rest and Respite

"Where are you taking me?" Caelwen asked again, following behind Se'jash's taller, reptilian shape. He glanced over to her and looked at her for a second. She was strong enough to walk around now, and the wound over her shoulder was almost fully healed due to the treatment he had given her. All that covered it now was a light bandage. Sniggering, he looked forward again.

"You will soon find out," he cackled through his sharp and pointed teeth. They continued forward for a while longer, and when they arrived at the spot where Se'jash intended, Caelwen could see it was a pool of water that lead into a tunnel flowing elsewhere. It was not unlike the others she had seen naga come and go in during her time here, and a positively dreadful realization instantly dawned upon her.

"You expect me to swim through what I'm pretty sure is a trailing subterranean river as black as pitch?" she asked, folding her arms and sharing with him a glare of vexation. "I beg your pardon, but my skills at performing such a feat are sorely lacking."

"Of course not," he said back. "I expect you to hold tightly onto me as I carry you through it. Today, I'm taking you to relax and recuperate on the surface of the island so you can regain your full health."

Caelwen was just as frustrated with this information, and practically ignored the second bit of news he had to share. "Why on Azeroth would I do that?"

"Because if I have someone cast a paralyzing spell on you in order for me to bring you through, you'll not be awake for what awaits on the other side," was his response. Caelwen still seemed disbelieving of his plan. Se'jash thought for a second before making a final gesture. "Do you trust me, Caelwen?" he asked, stretching his fin-lined arm out to her and unfurling the claw-tipped fingers from his palm.

Caelwen eyed the larger appendage for a few seconds, as if ever so slightly intimidated by its size. Finally relenting with a sigh, she placed her smaller hand into his own. "I do."

"Take a deep breath," he advised, "and hold on tightly."

She obeyed, and the moment she had taken in a great lungful of the stale air hanging through the cavern, the two fell into the cold pool and entered the wide, water-filled tunnel. For what felt like a meager few, but extraordinarily hectic seconds through darkness not even a night elf like herself could see through, Caelwen held firmly onto Se'jash's hand, and he did the same, keeping his charge close to his chest as his tail propelled the two forward. The salty water stinging her eyes, Caelwen instinctively clamped them shut. Then moments later, through her eyelids, she noticed the feeling of something bright shining against them, and the two suddenly parted from the water as Se'jash took a small leap, landing on solid ground.

The naga let go of the elf, and she proceeded to fall on all fours, taking in several deep breaths of the sweet air her lungs craved. Water dripped from both the bodies of Se'jash and herself over the dark rock they now stood on, soon drying. As she began to find the strength to stand up, the night elf could see that they were standing on a tidal pool-covered rock formation overlooking a beach, and past it sat the blue waves of the ocean. Crabs could be seen scuttling around over the sand, and other naga were spotted as well, patrolling the borders of the island with their constant and ever single-minded vigil. The afternoon sun showed its warm rays down upon Caelwen and se'jash, coating them in its glow as the night elf looked to him.

"Well, we're here," she blandly said, staring off at the many other islands that were positioned in a scattered formation in the short distance. Disinterest was sewn into her tone, but Se'jash knew it wouldn't stay there for long.

"Yes, but I did not bring you here for this," he enigmatically responded, before turning around and slithering a short ways off over the rock, motioning with a nod of his head for her to follow him. "The real sights lie further inland. Come with me and you'll see for yourself."

Quickly gaining her full bearings, Caelwen made it to his side, and together the two ventured from the sandy and rocky beach, into the forested and green mainland of the island. Among the many creatures they witnessed as they walked further on were many brightly-feathered birds singing exotic and exquisite songs in the trees above, and a small herd of red-scaled raptors that had built nests filled with clumps of ovular eggs in the ground, each one watching the two strange-looking intruders warily as they harmlessly passed them by.

As Se'jash could plainly see, to his great delight, Caelwen was absolutely ecstatic to be within the lively folds of green nature again, as opposed to the lightless and dank caverns she was once held in. She had a large smile stretched over her face that seemed to grow wider with every sight her gray eyes beheld. Just seeing her so happy made his heart soar, and his mind raced forward to what last thing this island had in store. To where he was _really_ leading her. Pushing back a large branch after encountering a rather thick cluster of bushes, he finally revealed to Caelwen the treasure that had been kept from her.

It was an orchard filled with a wide manner of bushes and small trees that bore ripened fruit on their long, leaf-covered branches. In the center of it, as though watching over the area like a stalwart guard, was a tall stone statue of Queen Azshara. Long had it been since plant life had begun to grow and encircle the finely-crafted construct, but it was very much visible above the shrubs and bushes, and still more than clear enough to tell all of who saw it of who it was portraying. Down a small dirt path that lead away from the orchard sat a waterfall overlooking the wondrous place and made a large and deep pond of fresh water.

"This place is... _incredible_ ," Caelwen finally breathed as she finished witnessing the grove's full splendor. Walking lightly over the soft grass, she approached a branch holding a yellow, pear-like fruit hanging on a thin stem off of its end. Picking it off, she spun it around and examined it before her growing hunger convinced her to take a bite out of it. Her eyes closed briefly as she admired the impossibly sweet taste she experienced next, while Se'jash carefully approached her from behind.

"How is it?" he asked.

"It's good," she answered as soon as she swallowed it, spinning about to face him. "Certainly better than that stuff you've been serving me."

"Well, I did try my best with it..." A small chuckle left Se'jash's mouth. Caelwen couldn't help but join him and the two were soon laughing out loud together, unable to contain themselves in the presence of the other, and uncaring of anyone who was doubtfully around to hear them.

* * *

Night approached quickly. In the cloudless, star-laden sky above, the two moons that orbited Azeroth, the White Lady and the Blue Child, showed brightly. The naga and the elf were lying on the soft grass together, below the gaze of the old statue of Azshara. Their activities concerned with the bounty of the orchard had rounded to as much completion as they felt was necessary, and now they were just... talking.

As Caelwen finished up a humorous tale of an incident when she was still in training to become a Sentinel, she took a chance and decided to turn her head to Se'jash. He was gazing at her face, and now into her eyes with his own two, bright red ones; each like a handsome and glistening ruby from where he lied just a few feet from her. She gazed back in silence, and as a time she could not calculate passed them by, she soon realized her face was blushing. Deeply unsettled by this, she quickly let a sour visage come about her face, and pulled at the grass by her sides with her idle hands. "What are you looking at?"

"I... just... those markings over your eyes," Se'jash quickly said, blinking twice as he broke eye contact with her. "They are... very odd and have provoked my curiosity. If I might ask you, what do they mean? We naga have forgotten most parts of kaldorei culture that minuscule."

"These? They're... facial tattoos," Caelwen responded, brushing a pair of fingers over them. "Female night elves can choose to receive them when we come of age. Mine stand for the mark of the serpent. It represents the cycle of life, rebirth, accuracy, speed, stealth, and a select few other meanings."

"The _serpent?_ " Se'jash repeated with a cocked brow, visibly interested by the way he strummed his hand through his facial tendrils. "I admire the sound of a representation such as that..."

"It's not like how you would picture it." Caelwen uttered a grunt as she sat up on the grass. Se'jash remained where he laid, looking at the elf as she explained what she meant. "It, along with the other markings, represent the varying aspects of nature alone. Not an individual creature, much less something such as a _naga_."

She lied back down as Se'jash let out a quiet, hissing snicker, and silence once again came between the two. Caelwen took this time to look to the sky, and stroked one of the locks of her hair with her hands. "Can I... tell you something, Se'jash? Something I've never told anyone else before?"

"Of course," he responded in a polite and respectful tone. "And you have my word that I'll not tell another."

Caelwen took her hands off of her hair and placed both of them together over her chest, closing her eyes after taking a final look at the one specific moon her people held sacred. "I've... never been as close to Elune as most of my other kin," she quietly revealed, her typically stubborn tone now soft. "She is the moonlight my people follow and the one who has lead us through times that lesser kingdoms would give up and burn through. But I just can't... see myself in that moonlight. Not anymore, anyway. I try and I try, but I fear she just... has not been there for me when I needed her. My family was taken from me, I eliminated their murderer, and I have not felt anything except emptiness within my soul since then. What if she... _isn't_ there?"

"Would that necessarily be a bad thing?" asked the naga, sincerity backing his voice.

She flashed him a brief look of worry, before returning her gray eyes to the bed of stars above. "Yes, it would be. To me. To all other night elves who know me. I know not what it would mean if that is the ultimate truth..."

More silence. Se'jash could not think of anything to say, fearing he would ruin the tender moment, and Caelwen regretted bringing it up. "It's very beautiful here," she suddenly sighed, changing the subject. "I never knew naga had such a taste for location."

"This archipelago we live upon is a pearl indeed. A small oasis if the ocean were a desert. We have many rival tribes that have tried in the past to take it from us, but each has failed. Perhaps because of that, none have attempted to take it for many years," said Se'jash. "Life has since become quite dull."

The two began to converse for a while longer about the island and its history since the Depthweaver tribe inherited it. It even seemed as though it would go on forever, but with a final yawn, Caelwen slipped quietly into unconsciousness after having a final question of her answered. Se'jash took notice with a flicker of his earfins, and pointed his resting head to her.

He continued to watch her as she lied there, sleeping calmly on the grass, unmoving and still as death with only her breathing to assure him the case was otherwise. As the naga looked over the kaldorei, Se'jash could not deny one fact any longer. Caelwen was a beautiful creature, and he _wanted_ her. He wanted to _be_ hers. He wanted to hold her closely and intimately; if only to feel her warm flesh press against his cool scales. Just being near her with these damning thoughts made his heart pound harder than when he was living off of the otherwise incomparable thrill of a fantastic battle.

He could not fathom why he saw her, a night elf - the archenemy of his kind - in such a queer light others of his kind would find perverse and abominable, but he decided not to dwell on such unanswerable mysteries. Mysteries that were caused by his antics originally meant to simply comfort the being he was surely destined to slay. Even so, he still had the wish to fight her to the death in the gladiatorial arena, but at the same time he still did not, and only now did he know the true reason why. And because of that, he started to fear what the conflict his current emotions could give him.

But having stayed active for more than two days in his to care for the once-ailing elf, the lure of sleep began to take a predatory hold of his weary mind. His own eyes drooping and will to stay awake quickly faltering, Se'jash's head limply fell to the cushioning grass and he eventually joined her in peaceful slumber.

* * *

Vesh'ari watched it all through the magically-contructed orb of water she had levitating in front of her and above the shallow cavern pond she dwelled in, all four of her hands surrounding it and keeping it powered and afloat. She often came into this otherwise empty, but silent and peaceful area to meditate and reflect on things of importance, but this was simply something she had never before had to deal with. She _knew_ what her brother was now feeling for that elf. The blood within her serpentine body coming to a boil, she unleashed a sharp hiss and the clear image reflecting from the sphere blurred and vanished as Tidepriestess Zajra's final words to her echoed through her mind.

Putting the effort to form the spying orb of extra vision barely placed any strain upon her practiced body, but witnessing what she just saw began to take its toll. Her concentration soon completely lost to seething rage, the orb of water collapsed upon itself and splashed into the pool below her. Sneering hatefully, she clenched her clawed and webbed fingers together.

"That moronic, misguided, ignorant _fool!_ " she growled to herself, her voice echoing throughout the lonesome area as she started to leave it, ripples scattering in all directions. "That elf has him completely under her thumb, and she does not even _know_ it! By Azshara..."

As she neared the small cavernous pocket's exit, Vesh'ari began to do one of many things she did best, and think. "But she is now healthy, and healed. Yes... tomorrow is the day she shall meet her fate, once and for all..." she began to mumble, her furious visage regaining its refined and calm posture. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and reopened them a second later. "And should the elf instead slay Se'jash, then so be it. It is what such a blinded idiot deserves, and I'll not have one such as he serving by my side if he bears such a pathetic weakness."


	7. Chapter 7: Song and Dance

Caelwen awoke as the morning was just coming upon her. Seen past the trees of the orchard, the orange-tinted sun lying on the far horizon was very warm, much like the island, but pleasantly so. Sluggishly sitting up with a tired groan, she rubbed the back of her head with her hand. Looking around, the elf soon saw the much larger form of Se'jash lying on his side nearby, still very much asleep.

His chest expanded inward and outward with long and heavy breaths as he remained dreaming. Caelwen, with extreme care in her movements, got to her thin legs and stood up before looking to the waterfall just a short distance away. With a plan in mind, after taking a final glimpse at the naga, she quietly started down the path toward it, leaving him.

It was not long after she departed that Se'jash began to stir. Licking his lips and with a small snort of his draconid nostrils, he opened his eyes and lazily let them drift to where he faintly remembered the night elf slept. Then, after blinking twice, he noticed a big problem.

Caelwen was gone. Fully snapping awake, he quickly stood up and looked around, but spied nothing but trees and green foliage. Slithering over to where she once rested he could see that the grass was still pressed down, meaning that she had only recently gotten up from it. He was about to dash off and search for her, when a peculiar noise struck his earfins. Had it not sounded so sentient he might have mistaken it for a wonderful birdsong. It was clearly a female voice, and it was light and in tune with something. He soon perceived that it was originating from where the waterfall and pond lied and set off there immediately.

Snaking his way down the path, Se'jash passed by the large pool of water and cast his eyes to the waterfall where he now knew was the source of the sound, and also from where he could see a faint and feminine silhouette standing behind the curtain of water. Growing closer, he knew right off that it was Caelwen, though she was fully undressed and was currently showering under the water of the waterfall, using the fresh liquid raining down to clean her purple-skinned body.

And she was singing. What was coming from her mouth was a song spoken in the full Darnassian language, and Se'jash couldn't completely make out what was being said, but that mattered not to him. It sounded ethereally beautiful, yet at the same time hauntingly somber. Without even being able to understand the words, he knew it was a song of loss and grief, which eventually evolved into a tune of harmony and peace. Before he even realized it, Caelwen had finished her melody, leaving the naga in stunned silence as the waterfall's roar overcame his hearing. Blinking once, he could just vaguely see the night elf wrapping up the last parts of her cleaning ritual.

"You have the voice that puts a siren's to utter shame," suddenly came Se'jash's light voice from over her shoulder. Ceasing her movements, Caelwen spun her head around and saw the naga standing a few meters away from her, just before where the waterfall's falling torrent hit the rocks and pond. Her cheeks instantly reddening, she covered herself with her arms until Se'jash turned his head away less than half a second later, wishing not to be rude. Reaching for her discarded clothing hanging from a jagged rock nearby, Caelwen hastily began to place them back over her naked body.

"Where did you learn to sing like that?" he asked her, still refusing to take a peek toward the elf, but fearing greatly that she wouldn't respond to his query.

"Well, my surname is 'Jaysong'. My family and I received it for a reason," she quietly said to him, filling him with relief as she gave him a response. "One could say the urge to sing when I'm by my lone self runs in my blood. Too bad it's an ultimately worthless and pointless facet when it comes to my profession..."

"It's not pointless. It's beautiful," Se'jash complimented, causing Caelwen to try desperately to keep her face from once again flushing with delight she wished she didn't express in his presence. "That's not something to ashamed of. I implore you to believe me for I've learned the hard way that _my_ profession, battle and bloodshed, is not everything as I once thought."

Caelwen couldn't help but smirk disbelievingly as she walked toward him over the damp rock, hooking on the final piece of her clothing about her chest. "However did you come to that conclusion, Se'jash?" she asked him. "I thought you said that all you ever wanted is to fight and kill worthy foes."

A low noise that the elf couldn't identify reverberated from within Se'jash's throat, and he turned his head to the falling shower of water. "Well, I met someone. One who has shown me otherwise, in spite of what I came to fully believe over the past few centuries," he mumbled, a large smile overcoming his mouth, exposing his white fangs as his facial tendrils continued to sway in the draft the waterfall provided.

Caelwen's arms folded together, a glimmer of interest flashing over her eyes. "Who's the naga that taught you this?"

"She's not a naga," he replied, looking back to her. The second he did, both of their eyes seemed to connect. Caelwen felt a shiver run down her spine, and it filled her with a warm emotion she had never before felt. Se'jash started to grow closer to Caelwen in a slow movement, and he was soon upon her. "She's... a night elf named Caelwen Jaysong."

Their faces grew closer. In spite of his monstrous visage that would have perhaps frightened or repulsed another person, Caelwen did not see that. All she could see at that moment, from behind her glowing gray eyes, was a creature the elf realized she felt an intense, incomparable affection for. Caelwen couldn't help but allow the irresistible force compelling her to let her eyes to close, as did Se'jash's own. Their mouths drifted closer until they were almost touching.

Then, with heavy reluctance, Caelwen hesitated. Her eyes opened, and with the warmth inside of her chest dissipating at that moment, she stopped. Se'jash's eyes soon opened as well when he sensed something awry, and he looked to Caelwen with an awkward glance as though he had made a grave mistake of some sort. "My apologies," he said, slowly turning about and facing the opposite direction.

"No, you did nothing wrong," she quickly said back, reaching a comforting hand and out and placing it on his large shoulder. He looked back to her and gave the night elf a small smile.

"I believe it is time we headed back," he finally sighed, looking ahead again. "Our own duel will happen very soon, now that you are in good health. I suggest we both prepare for it."

Se'jash started to leave Caelwen, and she stood there by herself. Thinking about whether or not it was the right decision to halt the moment they were both sharing, she slowly walked over to rejoin him.

* * *

And so, shortly upon returning to the caverns below, the duel commenced.

Caelwen entered the arena with her full armor on and bow in her hand. Her moonglaive was sheathed by her side, and a satchel of arrows sat over her back. She continued to walk to the center of the arena where Se'jash's intimidating, fully-armored form stood, waiting for her. His trident was held in one of his hands, and he looked to Caelwen expectantly. The audience of naga, including Lady Vesh'ari, watched with bated breath and great tension followed as the two fighters stared at one another, waiting to see who would be the first to strike.

Caelwen was the one to do so.

With little warning, the night elf darted to the prepared Se'jash and jumped at him, planting both of her feet into the top of his breastplate, pushing him slightly off-balance. Using the momentum to send herself back, she landed on the ground with an arrow already notched in her bow. By the time she had unleashed it, Se'jash had regained his footing and raised his trident, slapping the projectile clean out of the air before it could embed itself within his exposed throat. The next arrow sent at him met the same fate, and the third after that one was completely dodged as the naga sprinted toward Caelwen. He swung his weapon a meager instant before another could be shot forth and surely hit him.

Caelwen was able to avoid the attack, but the bow did not. With a dry cracking of wood that could have easily instead been bone, had her reflexes not been fast enough, Caelwen's bow was broken in half by the trident's three-pronged head. The middle was completely crushed to tiny splinters, and the bowstring still hung to the top end but was otherwise not attached to anything. Having left the weapon and jumped back, Caelwen took out her moonglaive and prepared to use it.

Se'jash leisurely passed by the remains of the bow and looked directly at the elf as a predatory eel would a hapless passing fish. His back arched and dorsal fins extended like flags as he prepared another assault. He sprung forth with a sharp hiss, and Caelwen did so as well. Their weapons clashed with a loud clatter that echoed all around them, shedding bright sparks from their sharpened tips. Caelwen struggled to push back Se'jash's superior weight and strength, but with a brief movement of her feet, she managed to slip out of the hold his trident had on her own weapon and sent its barbed tip to the floor. Instinctively using this free moment to her advantage, she next sent her three-bladed weapon out at the naga's exposed face unhindered, getting a pained shout from him as it hit something. Stepping far back, she had a look at what damage she had done.

Two of the beard-like tendrils lining the back edge of the left side of his jaw had been cleanly severed, the larger one of the two partially, and the smaller one fully. The fleshy, tentacle-esque extremities fell together to the dirty ground like beached fish, twitching around as the last of the nerves within them began to lose feeling. For a brief instant, Se'jash clamped a hand over the wound, showing an expression of both surprise and shock. Then seething rage curled over his face and he lunged at Caelwen with a roar; his trident held over his head.

The night elf leapt to his side, barely avoiding the mighty trident as it slammed into the ground, sending up a thick cloud of dirt, rock and sand. Slashing once through the haze of upturned earth, Caelwen's moonglaive raked across his chest armor, slashing it deeply, though not enough to touch his scaly flesh. While she prepared another move, something possessing a cold and damp sensation to it wrapped around her ankle. She looked down just in time to see that Se'jash had sent the tip of long tail at her leg, and grabbed a firm hold of her. With a grunt, just before Caelwen could think of using her weapon to rid herself of it, Se'jash had used his tail to throw her back.

She flew through the air and landed with a loud _thud_ on her back, creating a small crater within the earth, but still firmly holding onto her moonglaive. She managed to jump back to her feet, but a green blur soon caught her field of view and she looked forward, only to see that Se'jash was nearly upon her. His glassy eyes were wide and fixed in a death glare. Murder had consumed his mind and his weapon was pointed ahead of him, ready for the kill. Caelwen had no other choice but to fight back with the unavoidable attack headed her way. Unleashing a roar that made her throat ache with the sheer volume of air that was expelled from her lungs, the night elf ran forward with her moonglaive clutched tightly in both hands. With the trident stabbing ahead and the moonglaive cutting forward, the two simultaneously struck at one another.

Stillness went out through the air, and the only noise to go through it was Caelwen's panting. Red blood, thick and dark to the point of near-blackness, dripped from her moonglaive's sharp, curved blades as beads of sweat fell from her forehead in a similar way. Se'jash was smiling wickedly, and his face remained frozen this way even as he looked to his lower right side. His armor there had been pierced completely through where it was lightest, and his thick flesh had been sundered and split through deeply and hideously. Ichor spilled and sprayed forth from the wound, forming an already impressively-sized puddle in the dirt, and his breathing became a strained gasp. His trident falling from his weak grasp and hitting the ground with a metallic clatter, the naga limply collapsed with it. As the noise reached her ears, Caelwen fell to one knee.

She was unscathed. Her mind was still in a vivid and hectic rush, but she knew she had nimbly escaped major injury, if not just barely. The next noise to come to her before she could stand was one she did not expect to hear. _Cheering_. All of the naga watching, at first speechless, could not help but bellow their opinions of approval. What they saw was a fantastic spectacle rarely beheld. Vesh'ari herself took in a deeper-than-usual breath at the result that had befallen her sight, but that was all the emotion she showed; her mind having been made up over how she would react should her brother indeed be felled. After regaining her stamina, Caelwen got up and walked over to Se'jash, her moonglaive raised and ready to strike if he was about to lash out at her.

The burly creature's body was mostly still, save for the tip of his tail twitching and occasionally thrashing uselessly around. As he felt a shadow pass over his head, Se'jash pushed himself back enough to look into Caelwen's leering face. His eyes blinked once groggily, the unbearable pain he was feeling causing his discomfort.

"Now, _that_... that was one... one hell of a fight," he complimented to her. Another smile, wide and mirthful, came over his face and he let out a quiet, but long and droning laugh. Crimson blood seeped through his fangs and past his lips, falling to the ground with his last cough. "Fate has given me what I wished for, and I regret... none of it. Well? Be... done with it then, Caelwen..."

The glare held on Caelwen's face began to lessen until it had faded entirely. "No."

The smile on Se'jash's face vanished. Replacing his previous expression came a mien of misapprehension. Se'jash weakly looked up to her, placing an arm to the ground so he could lift himself, but only slightly. His brow was slanted in utter confusion. "Why?" he asked her. " _Why?_ "

"I... cannot do that." Caelwen's voice was almost as hushed as a whisper as she responded. "Not to you, Se'jash. _Never_ to you."

She lowered her moonglaive, as it now felt much heavier in her grasp. Dropping it, the bloodstained weapon landed in the dirt by her feet, and she turned upward to where the indifferent lady of the Depthweaver tribe sat, watching all that had occurred, but now with a brow raised. "I am sparing my opponent," she yelled up to Vesh'ari. "I am letting him live, as he has let me live."

"Caelwen, if you do this-" Se'jash tried to interrupt. Caelwen interrupted him right back with a glance that held a serious visage, telling him her final choice had already been made, silencing him.

"This is an action you cannot perform, elf!" Vesh'ari shouted back, her voice now furious while her body slithered to the end of her booth and peered down from it. "Either you must slay your opponent, or else be slain instead for your impudence!"

"From what _I_ remember hearing, my Lady, I was told several times I had to _defeat_ my opponent. I was never told that I had to outright kill him, much less in cold blood. He has done so and allowed me to keep my life, and so shall he," rebutted Caelwen. All the naga spectating began to fidget around and talk amongst themselves. Vesh'ari looked to them all, and they looked back to her. Many had looks of confusion and outrage. Most had looks of approval that were clearly aimed at the night elf's choice to spare their lord, possibly driven by the satisfying display they witnessed.

Vesh'ari tried as hard as she could to keep her cool mind from becoming consumed by anger. "Very... _well,_ " were the words she exhaled, each soaked to the brim with cold bitterness and spiteful venom. Grabbing her staff, she quietly exited her booth and abandoned everyone's judging eyes, and Caelwen in turn walked up to Se'jash with an easy expression, bending over to grab a strong hold of his arm.

"Caelwen..." he mumbled through a gasp for air. The night elf fully hoisted him over her shoulder as best as she could manage, and she started to help him move. "Why did you do this?"

"Why do you think?" Caelwen chuckled to him as they both began to leave the arena through one of the tunnels that lined it. "I don't want to lose you, Se'jash."

"And why is that?" he asked again.

"Because... you're the one thing I have not yet lost," was her response. "And it would be ludicrous for me to kill the last thing to bear so much value to my heart."


	8. Chapter 8: The Serpent and the Jay

The sun shining through a cloudless blue sky overhead, Caelwen looked out into the open ocean as a thick breeze passed through both her hair and the slightly torn and hole-riddled sails of the small sloop she stood in. One of her hands rested by her side while the other held onto the ship's wheel, occasionally turning it slightly to keep it steady. The waves of the water pushed the large boat around easily, but it stayed on course.

She had been given the ship by the naga. She learned from them that it was an older relic that had been captured from an Alliance explorer that happened to have the unfortunate luck to pass by the small archipelago several years before, hence the aged and partially-rotted, but still buoyant and stable wood it was composed of. As midday approached of this same day, Caelwen was given some supplies and she set off in it, in the direction of Kalimdor. The islands were too far behind her now to be seen, and being in the middle of the vast and barren ocean already began to make the elf feel a twinge of loneliness.

She was headed home, and it was all because she had won her freedom, as Se'jash had promised her.

With nothing else to pique her interest or care, Caelwen's thoughts went to him and quickly became consumed with his image. She had never seen him since she helped him out of the arena three days before, but she was informed that due to the machinations of the maidens and other magic users in his tribe, his injuries were all but fully healed. She suspected he never came to visit or bid her farewell due to the pain of it, but that was more than understandable, for she herself didn't think that she could say such a thing and keep a refined and straight face either.

Se'jash had shown her kindness for reasons that seemed almost trivial, especially considering one in his position had no need to do so in the first place. He had comforted her, healed her, fed her to the best of his abilities, and made her feel, for the first time in the longest of whiles... _cheerful_. He was someone who she would never forget in her mind. He was someone who she would always keep close to her heart. He was someone who... she never really wanted to leave.

And dwelling upon that like a dwarf with a grudge, it was then when the elf realized what had to be done next.

Quickly spinning the wheel as fast as she could turn it, Caelwen turned the ship right around over the briny surf it drifted on like a leaf, and with strong winds at her backing, she headed back in the direction of the islands with a sure expression on her face.

* * *

Se'jash did not know why he decided to return to the orchard in the center of the main island, but he did so anyway. It was the only place he could go to after hearing of Caelwen's departure earlier in the day. Her scent and memory still hung fresh over the area, and he wanted to savor as much of it as he could. As night had long set over the island, currently he was sitting in front of the old statue of Azshara with his head bowed, eyes closed and hands clasped together in deep prayer.

He never prayed much in his lengthy life, and most of the times he had done so in the past were for comparably minor reasons, but now he had a single, greater purpose. He prayed to Azshara, to the Old Gods, to any deified being his people worshiped who was willing to listen to his imploring words. What he asked of them was to let Caelwen return to him. To find a way in their divine power, if possible, so that she could be with him and he could be with her. To at least hear her voice one final time, but without sorrow and loss in its pitch.

The sound of something stirring in the bushes far behind him caught his ear, but Se'jash simply thought of it as being nothing more than an animal moving around. That is, until something new went through the night air. "Se'jash... are you here?" came a light voice he instantly recognized. Se'jash's eyes shot open wide, and with what felt like his heart stopping where it beat in his chest, he raised his head. He spun around and saw, to his disbelief, the shape of Caelwen emerging through the brush. The night elf quickly spotted him standing in front of the statue and began to walk toward him. "I thought I'd find you in this place."

"C-Caelwen?" he finally asked as she grew closer, almost unable to believe what he was seeing, like witnessing a wish being fulfilled. "Why are you here?"

She stretched an arm over her back and silently stared off into another part of the orchard. "Se'jash, as I was sailing off I began to think about you, and then I realized that I can't leave you if it means I'll not see you ever again."

"Of course you can!" exclaimed Se'jash. "It's what you were doing! You were setting off to leave this place and rejoin your kind as I promised you could. You're _free_ , Caelwen."

She huffed and shook her head. "You don't understand. Or... perhaps you do."

Se'jash's brow raised in an intrigued manner. "What does that mean?"

Caelwen took a single step closer to Se'jash and looked into his eyes. "What I'm trying to get at is that you're all I have, Se'jash. You're all I _want_ ," she said. "I have nothing and no one to go back to in Darkshore. Were it in my power I would give up absolutely _anything_ if it meant staying here and being with you."

Though overjoyed beyond measure by this the moment he heard it, Se'jash was still incredibly confused. "But why?" he asked, desperately searching for an explanation. Caelwen gave him a sincere smile to this.

"Because I... love you, Se'jash." No sooner had those binding words left her mouth, Caelwen placed her delicate hands on either side of the naga's head. Guiding his face down to hers, she closed her eyes and placed her soft lips on his own. It lasted for a time the naga couldn't fathom, and when she finally pulled back, Caelwen cast a look of true happiness into Se'jash's eyes. Carefully placing his arms around the elf's smaller body without even thinking it, Se'jash brought her closer to him and kissed her as well, wanting more of what she had given. Sensing a challenge in his actions, Caelwen grinned and tried to best him by forcefully kissing him back with great vigor, and it soon turned into a game of each trying to outmatch the other in terms of the dominance their lips had.

As he knew the situation was quickly evolving into something more, Se'jash began to let his hands wander over the night elf's frame, pulling back and unstrapping parts of her armor. Just as fully caught up in the moment as he was, perhaps more so, Caelwen allowed it and helped him along with the removal of her clothing. As some of the last pieces of her gear dropped to the ground like stones, the two fully embraced each other and their mouths properly locked together as their flesh touched at last. Their tongues entered and explored each others' mouths, quickly becoming besotted with the taste they experienced.

The two remained holding onto each other, fiercely vying for more. In the ensuing, divine chaos that followed, Caelwen failed to take notice as a change, ancient and unnatural, began to take hold of her body. While she was much too infatuated with the ardor her desire thrust upon her, her purple skin began to slowly peel back and split, revealing smooth, green scales underneath. Still she fervently kissed and intimately whispered vows of eternal love as she claimed Se'jash for herself, and herself alone. Their osculating began to reach an apex, and soon they both fell to the ground. As they continued their escapade, Caelwen's legs began to stretch out over the soft grass and soon appeared to melt together, fusing and morphing in to form a long, serpentine hind section, not unlike Se'jash's own, but thinner and greatly more feminine.

Se'jash crawled his powerful and muscular form closely over her prone shape, and as he did, Caelwen welcomingly placed her arms on his brawny and wide shoulders for support, each of her fingers digging longingly into his thick scales as webbed membrane began to form between them, moaning in ecstasy all the while. As the two lovers stared deeply into one another's eyes, ready for what was to come next, a second pair of arms grew and came up from Caelwen's lower sides, doing the same as the first pair. Slowly lowering his head, but keeping his eyes trained on Caelwen's own, Se'jash sedulously kissed at her stomach, breast and neck, earning another series of loud moans of approval from his inamorata that enamored and urged him further on along her naked body until he reached the prize that was her beautiful face.

Pressing his mouth onto hers, the two kissed once more with only blind passion to drive them and a feeling like molten fire burning through their veins. The pair closed their eyes and savored every blissful moment of incomparable euphoria that followed, tightly hugging one another and pressing their bodies closely together as minutes went by. Past Caelwen's hot and ragged, panting breathing as they both eventually separated their mouths for air, Se'jash seductively and mischievously started to drift back down to her bare neck and chest, sorely missing their exquisite taste and intending to obey his mistress as she demanded him to please her. As he ran his long tongue across the fore of her breast and Caelwen bore his wandering head in her four arms with a purr of pure gratification and approval at his antics, Caelwen's pointed ears started to shorten and change in shape, and her long, teal hair started to shrink before falling out. What replaced her locks and ears were a series of long dorsal spines that emerged from the tip of her crown, and lined from either end of the top of her head to the base of her slender, and now scale-covered back. Each one was connected together through webbed fins of a strikingly bright purple-blue texture.

As Caelwen's unwitting transformation reached its completion, an elf was no longer the creature whom Se'jash gently held and made love to in his arms. Her eyes, now lined with pupils that resembled thin reptilian slits, were as bright and vividly crimson as his own. Though he glanced into them several times after that, he failed to notice the difference in the haze his lust had clouted his mind with. With a light whimper in his ear, Caelwen urged him to sate the growing fire that ate and tore at her body and soul like a flock of spiteful harpies. Hungry for the irresistible treat that she offered, Se'jash moved until he had positioned his lower body on her waist in a way that his instincts had told him was proper. And from there, their love only escalated further, and the two seemed to lose themselves in the carnal desires of the other, filling the once-silent night air with erotic cries of passion.

As they finally broke apart some time later, Se'jash tiredly fell by Caelwen's side, and she in turn slowly inched toward him. Both exhausted beyond all known measure, they peacefully fell asleep in each other's arms under the watching gaze of the statue of Queen Azshara. The White Lady, shining its silver and sacred rays down from above, seemed to look upon the couple in a somewhat melancholy way.

For where once was but one serpent, now lied two.


	9. Chapter 9: A Blessing and a Curse

As the first rays of sunlight belonging to the new day shined over her closed eyes, Caelwen sluggishly opened them and awoke with a soft mumble. Stretching her arms out where she lied, she unleashed a mighty yawn before noticing a hand wrapped around her waist, and turned to spy her partner lying beside her, still safe in his embrace.

Looking to Se'jash through blurred morning vision, she smiled lovingly and gently stroked a hand over his face without disturbing him. The activity they partook in last night was _spectacular_. Her body, specifically her lower region, felt very sore from the way he held and pleased her, but it was a soothing pain that made her heart and soul flutter with satisfaction. She did not regret a thing.

Yet... Caelwen noticed there was also another sensation about her. Her entire being felt off. _Different_. It was not wooziness, drowsiness, dizziness or nausea though. She did not know whether or not it was also from the night before, or something else. Just thinking of it filled her tired mind with bothersome questions she couldn't answer in her current state, and she tried her best to ignore it instead. One thing that was for certain was that she felt very thirsty, and her parched throat was begging to be quenched.

Looking to Se'jash again, she carefully managed to slip out of his grasp without waking him. Still taken by the haze of just waking up, she didn't perceive anything wrong as she silently wandered down the path that led to the pond. Within the minute she soon faced over the clear water, and instantly bent over and dipped her foremost arms into it, scattering the once-still surface into a series of blurred ripples as the rumbling sound of the waterfall went on in the background. Cupping some water into her webbed hands, she brought it up to her mouth and took a long drink of the delightfully cool, fresh substance.

As her hands emptied of the water, Caelwen placed them once more into the pond and scooped up another handful. As she quickly drank the liquid, she happened to let her eyes move downward, and noticed a strange sight.

There was a green, unfamiliar shape reflecting from the pond. She knew it was her own image, but the vague configuration it possessed was alien, to say in the least. Lowering herself with one brow curled, Caelwen's curious face grew closer to the water's surface when the ripples finally began to settle, and what she saw startled her. The visage she witnessed was not elven, but _naga_. Placing a webbed, claw-tipped hand to her cheek, she turned from the water to her own scale-covered, four-armed, legless body, and then she knew that was she was seeing was no illusion. Stunned by this sudden revelation, a face of pure and abject horror painted itself over her now-pale, green face.

And far too surprised to hold in her terror, Caelwen let out a scream.

* * *

Se'jash was brought out his sleep of as a shrill cry pierced his ears. With a start, he jumped up from the ground and spun his head in all directions.

"Caelwen?" he called out loud in a panicked tone, looking around him but finding nothing. Taking a single second to think straight, he pinpointed the sound was coming from down the path far behind him, where the waterfall and pond sat. As he clumsily raced down the trail, still struggling to regain full control of his senses, he could hear a sound like a heavy splash come from the pond as though something large had fallen into it. His mind filling with the worst dread imaginable, he rounded the final corner and looked into the pool, only to see a great many fresh ripples begin to settle over its once-calm surface.

" _Caelwen!_ " he cried out. He was mere moments from leaping into the water, sure was his beloved was somewhere below it, when the surface of the pond broke half-a-dozen feet away. The tip of a sleek dorsal spin connected by purple-blue membrane, followed by the top of a scaly head emerged from the water just enough to show its eyes; both looking directly at him.

It was not an elf, but a female naga, and despite never seeing this naga before, Se'jash found her face very _familiar_ , especially considering the purple markings of kaldorei design vertically resting over her eyes. Her eyes themselves were like glowing garnets, and they both stared at him fearfully. Putting together what was going on, Se'jash came to a conclusion that left his mind blank with disbelief.

"Caelwen..." he whispered from where he stood, just loud enough for the being opposite of him to hear. "Is that... _you?_ "

The naga sitting in the pool lifted her head further from the water until her mouth also showed, before sharply turning it away, as if ashamed. "Yes..." she quietly voiced.

In that single moment, Se'jash knew what had transpired, as the events from last night began to illuminate within his head in a blinding light. His prayer, for Caelwen to be with him, had been answered. "Are... are you o-okay?" he stammered, uncertain on how to react. Caelwen looked away again, searching herself for something to answer with.

"I'm fine," she eventually confirmed, her tone no less shaken and disturbed. "I just feel... _different_. What's happened to me, Se'jash?"

"A gift." The words left Se'jash with an intense pleasure he could not hide. To that, Caelwen gave him shocked look as a gasp of stale air passed through her lips.

"A _gift?_ " she inquired. She carefully swam a few feet forward, drifting closer to the male naga. Se'jash slowly nodded, before sureness completely enveloped the motion of his action.

"The Old Gods have answered my plea. Last night I prayed to them, asking them to find a way of allowing us to be together. I think... this may be their solution."

Caelwen's face was still in a state of anxiousness. All of her life she had been told in hushed whispers of the demented, eldritch, insanity-spewing beings known as the Old Gods. To have had them use their mad powers to just... rearrange and mutate her body into another shape, as though her flesh and bone were merely toys for their use, made her gut twist and turn uncomfortably.

"There is nothing to be worried about or afraid of," once more came Se'jash's calm voice, leaving some of the desired effect they intended on her mind. "Caelwen, this is the truth that I am telling you."

"But I'm not an elf anymore, yet I still have the mind of one," Caelwen responded with a hint of dejection in her voice. She began to swim forward, approaching the edge of the pond after just a few strokes, and put all four of her hands on the grass and rock-strewn surface. With little effort, she crawled her new form out of the water and onto land, allowing Se'jash to have a full look over her long, green, serpentine body. Anyone could see that she was indeed a full naga. "What does this make me?"

"You may no longer be an elf, Caelwen, but you're still the one I love. The _only_ one I love," Se'jash replied, quickly moving himself to her side and gently putting his arms around her, holding her close in an embrace. She turned her head enough to stare up into his alluring eyes, and he stared back with a consoling visage on his face. "No matter what or who you are now, that is who you will always be to me."

Breaking away from his mesmeric gaze after a few, tender moments went by, Caelwen took in a deep inhalation of air and stared out into the pond, before looking back to Se'jash. "As long as you feel comfortable with this, then I am as well."

"Truly?" asked Se'jash, slowly taking his arms off of her as she motioned for them to be removed, so she could try and stand.

"I said that I was willing to give up anything if it meant being with you, Se'jash," she said to him, giving him a weak, but very much sincere smile. "I meant it when I said it then, and I still do. If that means giving up my identity as an elf in favor for this, then... so be it. It is a minuscule sacrifice."

Grabbing a great hold of his body for support, Caelwen shakily stood up, still not accustomed to the physiology of no longer having legs. When she had a stable hold over her lower body, she firmly balanced herself upon her green coils, admiring the peculiar, powerful strength she felt in them.

"How do you fare?" cautiously inquired Se'jash after a minute.

"It is an odd sensation," Caelwen stated back, as she started to move and slither around a few feet, circling back to him afterword. "I believe I shall get used to it."

Se'jash beamed as he watched her snake her attractive form around the grassy terrain, still seeing the same, elegant elf that had beaten him in the gladiatorial arena and stole his heart away. "Elf or not, you are as beautiful as a glittering pearl in an ocean of blackness to me," he sighed happily. "I know that the rest of Depthweaver tribe will welcome you."

Caelwen could not help but smile at his words. "Your flattery is as sweet as honey, my precious Se'jash." Lifting herself to his face, she planted a small kiss on the edge of his jaw before resting her head and a webbed hand on his chest, the other three enfolding around his muscular shape as her eyes tightly closed. "I still love you, my _lord_."

A jolt of heavenly warmth, not unlike the bliss he experienced last night went through Se'jash's body as he heard her seductively purr her last sentence. "And I love you as well, Caelwen. My _lady_ ," he whispered back, hugging her close and wishing the moment would never end. "Promise me that you shall never leave me, Caelwen. That you will remain by my side and let me be yours for as long as our lives allow."

"I shall," she promised, closing her eyes and savoring the moment whilst contemplating her new life. "For you are all I will ever need, Se'jash, and you are all that I will ever want. And that is a vow I will keep until the day comes where my heart beats no longer."

And for a while the two naga, their love as bottomless in truth as the deepest trench in the ocean, both simply stood there together, safe and perfectly content in the fold of the others' arms.

* * *

 **Author's notes:** Thanks for reading, you guys!


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